Sins of the Flesh
by Sharp Tongued
Summary: What happens when Draco finds Ginny in bed with his enemy? [darkfic, DM&GW, GW&HP, one-shot]


**Title:** Sins of the Flesh  
**Author:** Thea  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing:** Draco/Ginny, Ginny/Harry  
**Spoilers: **Uhm, none. Most is made up.  
**Setting:** Around 6 years after the fall of Voldemort.  
**Disclaimer:** I own none of the characters, those belong to JKR and Warner Bros. Please don't sue. I don't own anything, not even my car, so all that can be gotten is belly lint. Well, I might not even own that....  
**A/N:** This has been betaed twice. I didn't take everything the betas said to heart, so don't blame them. I still needed to maintain my own voice. Also? This is a dark fic. If you don't like those, then I suggest you backpedal. Warning right now.  
**Summary:** What happens when Draco finds Ginny in bed with his enemy?

* * *

Indifferent grey eyes looked from the young woman in front him to the man caught in the bed. Thoughts of betrayal reverberated through his head, creating a chaos that refused to be shut off. He had never expected this, even though she was not a Muggle-born witch, but a pureblood, he had stood up for her; an action that cost himself everything that he built and worked for, forcing him to leave his ancestory behind.  
  
Somehow in his shock he had missed her moving but there she now lay, brown eyes wide with fear and surprise; each emotion warring to be in the first place. She had known that he would not tolerate this. Cheating was a rule that would not be broken, or face the direst of consequences. She had given up everything she had known to be with this man; in the end, finding out that it was not everything she had wanted.  
  
He wanted to strangle her with his bare hands; to watch the life drain from her face as her eyes glazed over as they became blind to the world. He wanted to feel her last breathe draw from her body, as the pulse fell to nothing at the base of her throat. He wanted to leave marks of anger across her body, to be found by all.  
  
He ached to feel the quick popping of her neck as he broke it; to watch her head loll back, eyes vacant of life but still wide from the deep-seated fear that she would hold. In her life, that fear was no one else's but his. He would control her every move, or so he thought.  
  
The lack of control was driving at him; creating visions of blood flowing from her veins, pooling on emerald green sheets. Already alabaster skin would become almost clear; freckles that run along the bridge of her nose would become prominet against the now clear skin. Russet hair would fall around her like a halo, an angel in death only.  
  
To the man, oh he wanted to do so much more. He wanted to cut and maim, to make the man suffer for all his acts of heroism; to watch those green eyes grow wide with undiluted fear, knowing his life would be ending soon. He wanted suffering to sing through the other man's body, like he, the betrayed, was suffering now.  
  
All that he had thought, lived, and believed had been crushed into a million pieces. He allowed things with her that no other man in his family would have. He had made allowances, knowing the War had cost her so much. The loss of her family, save the treacherous Percy, whom she had learned had turned Death Eater sometime after Fudge's disposal as the Minister of Magic.  
  
Instead, he simply walked away. The young woman, his wife, and her best friend turned lover were sitting the bed shocked that he had not instantly killed them.

He quietly waited in the hall, listening to their movements. When the bed squeaked, a problem he had meant to fix at one time, he made his move. Standing in the doorway, he shouted "_AVADA KEDAVRA!_" with as much force as possible while his wand pointed at her lover, then repeated the action with her.

He made certain she saw what she had cost the world. The hero that had beaten Voldemort had just lost his life by the hand of his lover's husband, a foe from days of old.

It was at that moment -- the moment of stillness -- they fell dead, eyes no longer seeing the floor in which they hit.

The man with those cool grey eyes had not left without his revenge.  
  
No woman left a man in his family, not even the last wife for the last -- or the former as it were -- heir.  
  
He quietly walked away from the house; this time being the last he would ever enter.. He would sell, he would move, he would begin again. This particular life was over. Death and rebirth are done everyday; just ask the man with grey eyes.


End file.
